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FIRST CLASS. 30,000 FEET IN THE AIR OVER NORTHERN GEORGIA USA.
“Last chance, sir. Can I help you with anything else? Anything at all?”
“What?” The first-class flight attendant wags my empty glass. Oh. I didn't even see him take it, I'm so lost in thought. He licks his lips and raises an eyebrow as he waits for me to answer. I finally gather myself, “No thanks. I’m good.”
I adjust the blanket that I’m using to hide the prominent bulge in my pants from the flight attendant. He’s shamelessly flirted with me since I boarded, so I know the outline of my semi-hard cock would not have gone unnoticed. I don’t mind the flirting. It happens. I’m a hairy, bearded, olive-skinned stud that other guys think is handsome. He wouldn’t even be the first (or worst) flight attendant that I’ve fucked. I just have no interest this time.
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| Me (Steve). |









